


Torch of light

by Ginger_Shark01



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: 1962, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Australian grammar and spelling., But dramatized, Cold War, Don't even try, F/F, F/M, Fight me again, First chapter has none of the chapters above, I found one story with fem!illya and I was all like holy shit this needs to be a thing, Ik UNCLE was set in 1963, Illya is female and 6'2 and is so gay, Impossible to pronounce russian names, It's kinda like a history lesson, Napoleon fucks anyone, Post-War, but this is 1962 and they've been together since 1961 or something, female illya, fight me, historical figures, it won't let me put fight me twice.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger_Shark01/pseuds/Ginger_Shark01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1962, at the height of the Cold War.  Ileana Kuryakina chose her path long ago, it is only too bad this is what happens. A traitor to her country, she faces deportation to Syria. But she betrayed her country long before she ever had a choice in the matter. </p><p>OR</p><p>Illya Kuryakin is a 6'2" chick who is a lesbian who works in a group with an American, an British man and a German and who works for homophobic and American, Britain, German hating country. (It's Russia.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torch of light

**Author's Note:**

> Quick heads up -   
> Illya is a female. And is like, 6'2. The world needs more female Illya and I don't know why.  
> And she's gay and Russian and it's the 1960's. Not a great thing to be.   
> Illya's name is now Ileana Kuryakina. 
> 
> The Man from UNCLE (2015) was set in 1963, this is set in 1962, so imagine the movie but set in 1960. Nothing else changes, besides the fact that Napoleon was in Illya's place (him and Gaby didn't fall in love or anything) and Ileana's job took Solo's place. 
> 
> Characters, work do not belong to me, you know the drill.

General-Lieutenant Khrushchev was not a tall man. He stood at 5’5”, slightly overweight and was balding. How he had come to partake in leading the Soviet and Red Army was a mystery to many (it was because flattery gets you everywhere).

There is an American saying about something to do with power and responsibility, and it could not be truer now. Over the past couple of weeks, there had been a telegram from Cuba asking for a meeting. That was two weeks ago. Then another saying the Prime Minister was on his way. 

That was three hours ago. 

Khrushchev yawned and rubbed his face before sighing and slumping back in his chair. He didn’t have time for Cuba’s problems. He had his country to think about; recent intelligence from the KGB suggested that America had placed new missiles in Italy and Turkey. This was a time of war, and he could not allow America the upper hand. 

“General-Lieutenant Khrushchev,” his secretary’s voice rang throughout his head, shaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Da?”

“Prime Minister Castro here to see you.”

“Da, da, send him in.”

Khrushchev looked up at the tall, Latin American man, and stood up to greet him. He stood an entire foot taller than himself, and had a messy dark bear obscuring his face. This is not the face of a man of power, Khrushchev thought. 

“General Khrushchev,” the tall man said formally as he held out his hand, his Latin Spanish accent curling oddly around the harsh Russian name. 

“Mister Castro,” he stated in reply, shaking his hand firmly, “please, have a seat.”

Khrushchev walked over to his office doors to shut them before returning to his desk. He sat down with a groan.

“Cramping?” Castro inquired of him.

“Nyet, I just grow old,” he regretfully replied.

“Ah, age,” the bearded chuckled, “the pathway to death; the only certainty in life.”

“That’s quite some saying, Mister Castro, but tell me, what is the reason of your visit to Moscow?”

Fidel Castro fell silent for a time, regarding his words carefully. 

“Tension between the Soviet Union and America is higher than ever. You know Cuba is on your side, and we always have and will remain friends, I assure you, General Khrushchev. Yet…”

“…yet?”

Castro sighed. “Yet I fear for Cuba. I fear for Cuba’s future. We lay so close to America, one wrong word could be the end of my dearest country. As animosities grow between you and America, as it does with America and us. And we’re not half the world away. America could easily overpower us.”

“What are you saying, Prime Minister?”

Castro leaned his face on his hand. “What I am saying is Cuba needs protection. War has changed, General. No longer are horses and single fire guns being used, no. We have tanks now, and guns that can fire a hundred bullets a second. We have bombs so powerful, one can wipe out an entire city. We were both alive in the war, General. We both remember how America defeated the Empire of Japan. We both know what war is now.”

“Nuclear warfare.”

“Correct. I want to place nuclear missiles in Cuba, to deter any future harassment of Cuba, for the protection of my country and people.”

Khrushchev leaned forward onto his desk, contemplating. “I will have to consult with my ministers first, but I believe we may be able to help you. Our intelligence reveals that American made nuclear warheads have been placed in Italy and Turkey. We need to level the playing field. Thank you, Prime Minister,” he said, as he stood up to again shake Castro’s hand, “I shall be in touch.” 

“Para Siempre, General. I thank you deeply for your help.”

“Rashetzye.”

Castro shook Khrushchev’s hand and left. Khrushchev sat back down and pressed the intercom button.

“Natasha, please send in Mikoyan and Malinovsky immediately, spasibo.”

“Da, General,” she replied instantly, “I will let you know when they arrive.”

Cuba is so close to America, just as Turkey is to us. This could level the playing field. Let them know what it means to play with the likes of the mighty Soviet Union.   
“General. Mikoyan and Malinovsky are here.”

“Spasibo, Natasha. Send them in.”

He quickly fixed his tie before looking up at the men in front of him. “Comrades,” he greeted them. 

“General,” Mikoyan replied. 

“Have a seat,” he said as he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. “I have a proposition for you.”

The two men sat down, and looked at him expectantly.

“Comrades,” he said, “what is your opinion on building a new military base in Cuba?”

“Cuba?” Malinovsky said in disbelief, “why would we ever do that?”

“Malinovsky, let the General talk,” Mikoyan said. “He hasn’t even explained himself yet.”

“Nyet, Mikoyan. Cuba is only a couple thousand miles away from America. They would never allow us to store and deploy bombs so close to their mainland.”

“Malinovsky, please, let me explain,” Khrushchev calmly said, “the Prime Minister of Cuba is worried for his country, for his people. Cuba has long been a friend of Russia, and they are worried that being so close to America in this time of… unrest, that there could be future harassment to Cuba performed by any neighbouring country.”

“Yet America will not allow the placement of nuclear missiles in Cuba,” Malinovsky said, ringing his hands in frustration, “America will find out and direct repercussions will fall on Mother Russia. General, if you go through with this, this could be taken as an act of war!”

“We are at war!” Khrushchev yelled, stunning Malinovsky into silence. “This is no longer a war about guns or missiles. It is about information, it is about power, it is about superiority. It is about winning. KGB intelligence suggests America has military bases in Turkey and Italy, with atomic weapons. We need those missiles in Cuba. They cannot bomb us in fear of being bombed themselves. America laughs in our faces while they fuck their sheep. America thinks themselves greater, their government greater, and their people greater to the superior power of Stalin, of communism, of Mother Russia. I will not stand by, and let these Americans humiliate us!” He said, punctuating his message by slamming his hands down on the wooden table. 

The silence was long and heavy with the weight of Khrushchev’s words. 

There is an American saying about deafening silence. 

“I am with you, General,” Mikoyan declared. Khrushchev smiled gratefully at him, and shook his hand, before turning to look at Malinovsky contemplating his options.  
“And you, comrade?” Khrushchev asked Malinovsky. He was silent for a while longer, before speaking slowly and carefully. 

“Cuba has long been an important ally to Mother Russia. They have always been there in our need, so it is only right for us to be there for them in their dire need. If they so desperately need our protection, well then we best give it to them.”

Khrushchev and Mikoyan chuckled. “Well put Malinovsky,” Khrushchev said, before reaching into his drawers and drawing out the dossier that had arrived with the Cuban’s telegram this morning.

“Comrades,” he said, “may I introduce, Operation Anadyr.”

**Author's Note:**

> Et, voila!
> 
> Characters in next chapter.
> 
> Just so you know, the Russian dudes and the Cuban PM were real people, infact many of this chapter is based on real happenings. The Cuban PM did not go to Russia, however, and you should not use my writing as a history test thing.


End file.
